Fire Burn...Cauldron Bubble

     Have you ever come to the last page of a fascinating, intriguing, hang-on-every-word book only to feel cheated that it didn't continue?  Did you spend a few minutes reflecting on the story, the plot, the characters and considering what you read?  Did you leave your easy-chair with a smile on your face, knowing that you couldn't pick up another book just then because nothing could possibly compare to what you had just read?  I know that feeling!  I recently finished reading the book of Acts.

     As I read Acts 28 and realized the book was finished, I was overwhelmed by disappointment. I had been ripped off.  The story wasn't over.  It couldn't be.  I wanted to read more healings, more divine intervention, more prayer, more faith, more fire, more Pentecost.  It was not to be.  I felt lost.  I didn't know where to turn next.  With 65 other books from which to choose, not one called out to me.  I couldn't let it go.  My mind kept going back to why it ended that way.  I had spent 28 lovely days wrapped up in the events of Acts.  I hungered to have that same fire of God and see it in my world. I contemplated the enormity of having enough faith in God--enough of God himself in me--to bring healing to others through his name.  But my hunger and contemplation did not mask the fact that I was frustrated and a little irritated that the book had ended before I was ready to quit reading. 

     Finally, the light pierced through the fog of frustration clouding my brain. I had an epiphany.  The book of Acts was never intended to end.  All the praying and waiting, the faith and believing, the patience and persevering that culminated in the reward of Pentecost (Acts 1-2) was never supposed to be just an historical account, a one time thing.  All the praying, preaching, and church building were never supposed to end.  Acts was only intended to be the beginning; we are supposed to be its continuation. 

     It was a shocking revelation for, in that moment, I realized that we have completely, horrifically, inexcusably dropped the ball.  We have failed to keep the fire of Acts burning in our hearts, our churches, our world.  You see, it is not enough to read the Bible every day, pray a prayer, attend church.  To simply habitually do those things is cheating ourselves and everyone around us.  It is to tell God that we aren't interested in having all of him.  We aren't interested in his fire, his presence, his power.  It is simply to settle for a form of Godliness instead of seeking desperately for the real thing. It is, tragically, to decline Pentecost. 

     And who can afford to do that?  Not I.  I am not okay without Pentecost.  The dry tinder of my soul continually cries out for the fire of the Holy Spirit that burns away the chaff and leaves only that which exudes Christ.  I am hungry, my spirit clamors for Pentecost.  I am desperate for what it accomplishes in me--the faith, the confidence, the fire. I am ineffective without it--a lamp without a flame.  I am helpless with the wanting. I want God's fire to burn so fiercely in me that the cauldron of my soul bubbles up and flows over into the world--a light in a dark place.  I want Pentecost in my heart that I may share it with those around me.  I am nothing without it.

     Are you okay without Pentecost?  Are the accounts in Acts just stories to you?  Is your God still big enough to light a raging, unquenchable fire in your soul? 

     If your desire for God doesn't consume you, if your need for Pentecost has gone cold, if you can't fathom the burning fire of the Holy Spirit visiting your church this Sunday, then you need to go read the book of Acts.  Really read it. Immerse yourself in it. Allow yourself to imagine what it would have been like to experience it then.  Imagine what it would be like to experience it now.  And understand that you can.  The same God who sent the fire of Pentecost to burn in the hearts of the early church is alive and working today. He hasn't changed and he wants to give us Pentecost.  He wants to set our hearts on fire.  He wants our souls to bubble up, overflow, and change the world. 

     So may we not be lax.  May we realize that Pentecost was not intended to be a one-time thing.  May we truly believe the acts of Acts were never supposed to end.  May we, in taking up the torch, bow before God and sincerely beg, "Fire burn and cauldron bubble." And may we experience Pentecost. 




**I don't know if God will ever lead me to write on this topic again, but that doesn't mean he isn't leading someone else to do so.  If you are hungry to continue finding God's fire, swing over to https://encontrandofuego.blogspot.com and read the musings of a man deeply consumed with finding, kindling, and feeding the fire of God.  Blessings!

The Busyness of Being Still

     When was the last time you were intentionally still? How about the last time your mind blocked out the rat race and sat calmly?  What about your spirit?  Has there been a time recently when your spirit has purposely cast it's cares at the foot of the cross and rested in stillness?  Why not? If you read Psalms 46:10 you will find the command that is quite possibly the most difficult to obey.  It simply says, "Be still and know that I am God..."

     For humanity, this is easier said than done.  We are caught up in a precariously balanced schedule of work, school, errands, ballet, soccer, et cetera, et cetera.  Each activity is carefully planned to fall at a precise time so the schedule works flawlessly.  Sadly, all our meticulous planning leaves no time to simply be silent, be still.  We race around planning and doing, solving and stewing in an attempt to prevent this or orchestrate that.  If we stop and check, we realize that we have double booked--right over God's appointment.  And why?  Does all the doing bring us peace?  Does all the stewing and strategizing make us feel less stressed?  Do any of these things fill the "God space" in our souls?  Do we realize the answer to these questions , if answered honestly, is, "No"?

     Apparently not.  Perhaps it's because we haven't tried being still.  Perhaps we haven't really gotten to know God enough to comprehend what he's saying here.  We haven't skipped the gym to spend time with God.  We haven't cancelled the football party to have a prayer meeting.  We haven't said "no" to the new committee at work in order to have time to simply sit still, unclutter our mind, settle our spirit, and know that God is God.

     I have recent personal experience with learning to be still. You see, I had become burdened with a pile of concerns I simply didn't need to worry about.  Some of them weren't even my issues. They would pop up the minute I started to pray and derail my thoughts.  They followed me through the day, hounding each step and wreaking emotional havoc.  They kept my spirit troubled, my heart distressed. In the midst of it all, I repeatedly heard the words, "Be still", echoing in my head.  So I took some time one morning, read the Bible, prayed, blocked out everything else, stilled my spirit, and allowed God to be God.  The pile of "stuff" dissipated.  My spirit healed.  My heart mended.  My faith grew.  My God and I were one again.  And now I consistently hear the whispering in my heart urging me, "Be still..."  When things are out of my control, "Be still."  When I'm frustrated, anxious, terrified, "Be still."  When all I can do is trust, "Be still."

     The truth is, our human efforts are simple and often ineffective.  Our worrying accomplishes nothing.  Our strategizing may or may not pan out.  But our God is a sure thing.  He is our refuge and strength in trouble. (Psalms 46:1)  He knows the path before us. (Job 23:10)  He has the answers we have no hope of conjuring on our own. (Isaiah 55:8-9)  He has promised to be a helper who never leaves or forsakes.  (Hebrews 13:5-6)  And he is readily available when you simply be still and let God be God.

     In I Kings 19:11-13, Elijah looks for God in the wind, an earthquake, and a fire, but finds him only in the still, small voice that followed.  If he had been raging, he would have never heard it.  Neither will you.  So halt the craziness of your schedule.  Carve out an appointed time with God.  Stop talking.  Stop worrying.  Stop plotting.  Just stop.  And immerse yourself in the busyness of being still.

     Be still and know that God is God.

Selfish Saints

          About two weeks ago, I read an intriguing diatribe on American missionaries and missionaries to America. The author raised the question of why Americans feel the need to travel overseas to risky, unhealthy places to do missionary work when horrible conditions and unimaginable atrocities greet us each day on our own doorstep. Personally, I understand and fully support those God has called to foreign missions.  The call of God is, or should be, impossible to ignore.  However, not unlike the author, I fail to comprehend why American Christians who do not feel called to foreign missions fail to hear the call to be missionaries at home. 

          I wonder why.  Why are there no missionaries to America?  Are all the Christians blind to the starvation, disease, disregard for human life, and desperate need for Jesus around them?  Do they assume that because there is a church on every corner every citizen knows Jesus?  And do they truly believe that the only ones called to seek the lost are those called to third world countries?  Of course not.

          With news channels running in every imaginable place, magazines and newspapers lining waiting rooms and checkout stands, and the wonderful invention of the Internet we are more aware of what is going on around us than ever before.  The law of averages assures us that not every citizen knows Jesus--or even about him.  And if we were to be really honest with ourselves, we would have to admit the issue isn't that we don't feel called, but that we don't want to go out and actively seek the lost because we have other things we would rather be doing.

          And that's the answer.  We are selfish saints.  People who don their self righteous robes and assume that because they sing in the choir and serve on the church board they have done their part for the Kingdom.  If a lost soul wanders in to church service on Sunday, that's wonderful, but there is no inclination to go out and labor to truly influence people for Jesus Christ.  We are more fascinated with the temporal than the eternal, happy to keep the precious story of life changing redemption to ourselves rather than share it.  Yes, our churches are full of selfish saints. 

          Perhaps today's special variety of Christian hasn't read the passage that says, "...He that winneth souls is wise." (Proverbs 11:30 KJV)  Maybe the newer Bible translations don't read that way.  Or perhaps the blanket command, "Go ye into all the world, and preach the gospel..." (Mark 16:15 KJV) doesn't truly apply.  Perhaps, when it's all said and done, we really are simply selfish saints who don't want to dirty our hands on the unwashed masses.  Perhaps we are too scared of being seen socializing with those whose reputation is less sterling than ours.  Maybe, just maybe, we selfishly love ourselves, our lifestyles, our things more than we love those who need Jesus. 

          It's enough.  We are getting nothing done.  The cycle must be broken.  The selfishness must end.  We must stop living as if nothing but ourselves, our families, and our social circles exist.  We must start living for eternity.  We must heed the call. We must be missionaries.

          But what does 21st century soul winning look like?  How do we do that in a society that has changed so much since the days of knocking on doors with the Good News and passing out tracts?  How do we show someone they need Jesus in a world of political correctness?  How do we show them what knowing Jesus looks like? Try this. Put down the  electronics and get off the couch.  Get out of your house, out of your social circle, out of your comfort zone.  Go out and do what Jesus did. 

          Feed people--remember the loaves and fishes that fed 5,000? (John 6)  Visit the sick--imagine being the blind man healed when Jesus took time to stop and visit. (Luke 18)  Have dinner with outcasts--think Zaccheus. (Luke 19)  Offer words of spiritual life to those who ask even though they may not immediately heed them--consider the rich young ruler. (Mark 10)  Weep over your country, your state, your city, your world. (Luke 19:41)  Give of yourself.

          Sadly, selfish saints can't do any of this.  You can't win souls by being self-absorbed.  You can't selfishly hoard your time, resources, or energy.  You can't.  You don't dare, because you have been called. So get out there.  Socialize.  Evangelize.  Be faithful.  Be consistent.  (II Timothy 4:2)  Be selfless.  Be a saint of the true variety.  Knowing this, "He that goeth forth and weepeth, bearing precious seed shall doubtless come again with rejoicing, bringing his sheaves with him." (Psalms 126:6 KJV)

          Heaven will be filled with the fruit of selfless service.  How full will it be from your labors?

Jesus Is Praying For You

     Recently, while enduring yet another spectacular spiritual battle, I came across the passage in Luke 22 where Jesus discusses with Simon Peter his vulnerability to Satan's attacks and reveals that Peter would eventually deny even knowing Jesus.  The story of Peter's denial is quite familiar, but the preceding verses are the ones that really caught my attention.  In Luke 22:31-32, Jesus says to Peter, "...Satan hath desired to have you...but I have prayed for thee, that thy faith fail not:..." (KJV)  I needed those words that day.  I need them every day.
 
     I am often in a spot similar to Peter.  Satan tirelessly attempts to convince me that God has abandoned me.  He beats up one side of my soul and then the other.  The battle seems endless.  The outcome means everything to both of us.  There are no tied scores, only wins and losses.  My strength wanes.  My faith grows threadlike. My courage dwindles to barely an ember.  On my own I don't have the energy to pull out a win. In a final push to emerge victorious, I throw a glance over my shoulder, searching for aid.  With enormous elation and nearly palpable relief I realize that reinforcements have been there all along.  Jesus was already there.  Before the battle started, Jesus was praying for me.  He was interceding on my behalf that in this moment my faith, though stretched to the minutest thread, would continue to hold.  And it did.  I am fiercely relieved to say with the Apostle Paul, "...I have kept the faith." (II Timothy 4:7 KJV)  But I can only say that because Jesus, who could be doing so many other things, took the time to pray for me.

     He doesn't have to, you know.  There are a lot of things in this world that seem so much more important, so much more in need of God's attention. Praying for me seems like such an insignificant thing to do in the face of rampaging epidemics, bloody wars, horrifying crime, or disreputable politics.  It's humbling.  I mean so much to him that he makes sure to go before me and cover my future in prayer.

     It's not just me.  For 12 years I've been sending my son to a different state to visit his father for weeks at a time.  My mind flashes with the horrible things that can happen to children, the ways teenagers can be pulled in the wrong direction, the lack of a strong Christian influence.  Immobilizing terror begins to set in and then I remember that Jesus is already there ahead of him, loving him more than I do, praying for him, and helping him fight his battles.  Does it eliminate the concern?  No.  But the terror is replaced with peaceful trust that the God who loves me too much to let Satan have me, loves my child just as much.  Jesus is praying for him too.

     And you are just as important as me and my children.  You are the bird specially fed by God's hand, the field lily clothed more beautifully than kings, (Luke 12:24, 27) the apple of God's eye avenged by his hand (Zechariah 2:8-9).  You are imperative to the Kingdom.  You are special.  You are precious.  You are not alone.  Jesus is praying for you. 

     However, like Peter and I, you are also immensely vulnerable to Satan's attacks.  His desire to have you is an all consuming fire that endlessly drives him to fight for you.  He will do anything to get you.  In the middle of your normalcy something will spring up to distract you, pull you away, or tempt you to change direction  You are powerless on your own.  You have no strength.  You are incapable of deflecting Satan's advances by yourself.  Yet you are immeasurably blessed because Jesus sees the battle before it happens and has already prayed a preemptive prayer on your behalf. The strength you need to defeat Satan is already there, you just have to tap into it.  Victory comes through the knowledge that, in spite of all the other things he could be preoccupied with, Jesus is praying for you.  That is how important you are to him. That's how much he loves you.  (Romans 8:34-35, 37-39)

     So the next time you are surrounded by Satan's traps and think you'll never make it out alive, remember this--Jesus is praying for you, your family, your needs, your future.  He never stops.  Know it.  Believe it.  Rest in it.  (Romans 8:34)  His prayers mean you can find infinite strength in your moment of weakness, amazing comfort when you are beset by life's trials, and blessed peace in the midst of your storms.  What phenomenal love toward such undeserving individuals.  Comfort.  Strength.  Hope.  Peace.  All because the God of the past and present has already been to the future and covered your path with prayer. 

No Looking Back

You may find it amazing to know that I consistently have to tell my teenaged child to watch where he is walking.  Seriously.  Why does he try to look behind him while walking forward?  It always ends badly.  People get trampled, his feet get tangled up and he falls, he randomly walks into things.  You would think that after a couple of these episodes he would have figured it out.  I am still patiently (or not so much) awaiting this event.  Hopefully he will soon realize that looking backward throws up roadblocks and halts his forward momentum.

Sound familiar?  Not the part about my son.  The part where we forget that looking back isn’t such a great idea.  What good can come from looking at the past, reconsidering our shortcomings, or just casting a longing glance over our shoulder at the way things used to be?  What exactly do we miss about the past or do we still long to hold onto? Where there are always great memories to cherish and intense gratefulness for where Jesus has brought us from, constant looking back indicates a state of longing for what used to be.  It’s hazardous to your health, not just physically and emotionally, but spiritually as well.

Because of that, it behooves us to remember the little passage in Luke 17:32 that simply says, “Remember Lot’s wife.”  You know the story. (Genesis 18-19) Angels go into Sodom and Gomorrah hours before their demise to rescue Abraham’s nephew, Lot, and his family.  The angels of God miraculously hold back the evil residents of Sodom, allowing the family to escape the coming judgment.  As Lot, his wife, and his daughters are escorted from the city by their Heavenly rescuers, the angels tell them to run for their lives and issue the specific mandate, “Don’t look back.”  It seems so simple.  Just keep looking forward, keep walking, don’t look back.  Yet Lot’s wife couldn’t keep from glancing back.  And at what?  Sodom and Gomorrah were so horrible, so depraved that God could not find even ten righteous people in them. (Genesis 18:32) What was so glamorous about those towns that she was willing to throw her life away for one last glance? 

It’s easy to judge Lot’s wife because we know what happened to her in the end, she looked back and became a pillar of salt. (Genesis 19:26) It’s not so easy to look at ourselves and see the same thing, the same backward glance, the same desire to hold on to something from our past. And it’s just as deadly for our souls as it was for her life.  Jesus tells us that “No man, having put his hand to the plow, and looking back, is fit for the kingdom of God”. (Luke 9:62 KJV) If you are looking back you aren't ready to go forward. Your heart’s not completely interested in what’s ahead of you. That means something you hold more dear is behind you.  It means you are willing to give up the promise of the future with God for an un-promised re-run of moments past. It means something else is more important than Jesus. It begs the question, “What’s behind you that’s more important than getting to Heaven?”

What’s holding you back?  What's stopping you from starting? An old habit? Ungodly friends? A questionable lifestyle?  Maybe it’s a situation you failed to forgive.  Maybe there’s some bitterness, anger, pain you don’t want to let go.  What’s got your attention?  What’s tempting you to throw your faith overboard, toss Heaven out the window?  Is it worth it?  Is it worth eternal punishment? Is it more exciting than an eternal reward? Is it more important to you than seeing Jesus face to face? 

When I was a child, there was a common statement, “I don’t want to miss Heaven for the world.”  I have no idea who coined the phrase, or where it might have originated.  I don't recall ever knowing, but I know this—I don’t want to miss Heaven for the world!  There’s nothing here that is more alluring, more exciting, or more important than getting to Heaven and seeing Jesus.  I hope you feel the same way.  I hope your eyes are fixed steadfastly forward.  I hope that with the Apostle Paul and me you can honestly say, “…Forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus.” (Philippians 3:13-14 KJV) No looking back.  No turning back.  Just “straight on ‘til morning”.

  

Closets of the Heart

           What’s in your heart?  I mean, what’s really in your heart?  You know, back behind all the pretty, appropriate stuff you want people to see.  Way in the back, where you’ve got the door with three locks firmly closed and bolted.  What’s in there? Why is it closed up?  What are you hiding? Do you even remember? When was the last time you looked in there?  Most importantly, have you ever let Jesus look in there?

            As Elihu, one of Job’s supposed friends, is waxing eloquent in an attempt to prove that Job has erred against God, he makes a statement that is imperative for every unopened closet of the heart. Elihu says, “…it is meet to be said unto God…that which I see not teach thou me: if I have done iniquity, I will do it no more.” (Job 34:31-32 KJV) The concept brought me up short.  Do we truly not know our own hearts?  Turns out the answer is “no.”  We hide things from ourselves, fail to call ourselves on our own sins, and excuse uncontrolled anger and hate under the guise that if we direct it at something God hates then it’s okay.  We whip out a measuring stick and use it on everyone except ourselves, consistently pretending to be a never-ending fount of virtue even if our words and actions don't live up to it. Well, I say enough with the hiding and skulking around. You can’t sneak your way into Heaven. It’s time to let God show us what he sees in our hearts.  And time to let him clean it out. 

            The fact is, heart closets collect things. Past hurts. Injustices, both real and imagined. Frustrations, embarrassments, disagreements, upsets. We stash them all in the closet and they become a mosh pit of nastiness.  They stew and fester becoming enormous vats of anger, hurt, bitterness, jealousy and hate.  We hang on to them so long that it becomes easier to just close and bolt the door and hope no one notices rather than haul them out and deal with them. Or perhaps we think we have dealt with them because they seem to be under control. But while they may stay dormant for a period of time, they will eventually erupt into our words, actions, and attitudes.  For some reason, even then, we tend to push them back in and add another lock to the door.  I don’t know why.  Really, who wants to hang on to that mess?  And who truly believes they can hide it from God?

            You can’t. He sees everything. (Proverbs 15:3) You can’t hide it from those around you either.  It seeps out. In Matthew 12:34, Jesus says that our mouths spew out what our hearts are hiding.  If we speak hate, then hate inhabits our hearts.  If we speak love, then love dwells within.  And it’s not just in what we say either.  It’s in how we act.  Are you showing hate or love to others?  Are you shunning or welcoming the lost?  Do remember the words of Matthew 7:20-21 that say your actions will tell whether or not you are truly of God and that not everyone who says “Lord, Lord” will make it to Heaven? If Jesus doesn’t saturate your life, your words, and your actions then perhaps you need to check into where he’s really living.

 See, Jesus wants your whole heart.  He won’t accept less. And since Galatians 5:22-23 tells us that the fruits of the Spirit are love, joy, peace, longsuffering, gentleness, meekness, goodness, faith and temperance, it’s pretty easy to determine what should be found in our hearts and evident in our lives. Satan wants your whole heart too, but he’s willing to take any corner he can get because he just needs a space to get things brewing. And that’s how all those other things, like envy, strife, wrath, and hatred get started. (Galatians 5:19-21) Be aware, the two sides can’t coexist. They won’t.  Either you love or you hate. You must choose...God or Satan. (Matthew 6:24)  You can’t have one residing in the living room and one hiding out in the closet.  It just won’t work.

 So, I ask you again, what’s in your heart?  Are you willing to check it out?  Can you take Jesus in every crevice, corner, and closet? Does the light and love of Jesus fill your heart? Or are you busy installing lock number three? If you are, don't waste your time. Ecclesiastes 12:14 says God will reveal and judge every secret thing, so you might as well open that closet and let God clean it out today.  You’ll be nothing but better for the cleansing. 

The Empty Tomb Is…Full?

           Have you ever wondered how it felt to travel to the tightly sealed, closely guarded tomb of the man you believe to be the Christ only to find it open and empty?  The Luke 24 account describes the women who had come to fragrance the tomb as being “much perplexed” (v. 4), but, considering human nature, it seems there would have been some other emotions as well.  What did they feel?  Fear?  Awe?  Joy?  Did it sink in right away that their faith was not misplaced?  And did they notice that the tomb, though empty of Jesus’ body, held more than those old burial linens?  Did they notice that the empty tomb was full?

            They had just come through the worst day of their lives.  Their best friend, the man they had walked with, talked with, learned from, and leaned on had been brutally ripped from their lives.  They could do nothing to change it.  Their hearts were shattered. If their belief was true, He was the Son of God. The world was now forever changed. They entered the tomb only to find it empty and their hearts leapt in their chests.  As they stared at one another in anxious amazement, two men in white appeared and queried why they were there.  Before they could respond, the men spoke those words that the women desperately hoped for and would forever echo through the annals of time, “He is not here, but is risen.” (Luke 24:6)  It was as they believed.  He was The Savior.  And though his body wasn’t there, the tomb wasn’t empty. It was full.  Full of promise, hope, grace.  Full of love and redemption.  Full of proof.

            You see, the empty grave means everything.  Jesus rose from the dead.  It proves everything he said is true.  It proves everything he did was an act of Almighty God. It means God is a God of mercy—remember the thief on the cross. (Luke 23:39-43) It means God is a God of grace—ask the woman washing Jesus’ feet with precious ointment. (Luke 7:44-48) It means God is a God of unlimited power—consider the man delivered of the unclean spirit who claimed to be “Legion”. (Mark 5:2-14) It means every healing truly happened; every sinful heart that asked was cleansed.  It means that hope, help, and healing are available to all.  It means salvation is free.  It means unlimited love, unending grace. 

That empty grave means God’s not dead.  It means that the God who spun the earth for the very first time, who created you in his image, who sent his Son to earth as a baby and offered him up as a sacrifice for your sin and mine is still alive and working.  His hand isn’t shortened, his ear isn’t heavy, he hasn’t stopped performing miracles, and his grace hasn’t run out.  It means all those events recorded in the Bible are real and true.  It means we serve a living, resurrected Savior. 

            This Easter, I hope you consider the fullness of the empty tomb. Reconnect with the reality of grace. Cast your confidence in the living God who offers you his pardon, his peace, his presence.  And remember, because the Savior's body isn't there, everything you need is.  The empty tomb means you can have full life in Christ.   Accept it.  Believe it.  And when I say to you, “He is risen.” May you respond with a resounding, “He is risen, indeed.” 

           What does the fullness of the empty tomb mean to you?